The letters crinkled more as he made his hands into fists at his side. Standing up he put some space in between himself and Chris. He leaned up against a wall, throwing his head back into it.The pain felt good, it was something he could identify, something he could rationalize.
He opened the first letter and found himself choking. The letter was addressed to the King of Tamsia.
Inside, it detailed the events of the last week. All the conversations, the intimate details, the small private moments that he didn't know had been seen. The utter betrayal burned through his veins. Gunter had reported everything back to his father, and who knows how long that was going on. What personal things did he know? What had he said?
His emotions shifted, he was filled with rage. Wishing that gunter would come in through the door if to do nothing than question him. What made him do it? What could it have possibly been? Zeven was at a loss, in all the years he'd know him, Gunter had never wanted more than just a simple life. No need for riches or fame. Was there something he couldn't or didn't give to him?
It fit like the right piece in the wrong puzzle. The entire picture conveyed one thing except for this small little corner, and yet it still fit in the notches.
The papers shook along with his hands as he raised them to run through his hair. Unlike usual, he did not find the motion soothing instead it just brought back more memories.
When he opened the second letter, he found that it was also meant for his father. However as he read further, it was clear that the contents of this letter were in direct contrast to the previous. There was mention of a woman that he filled in as Chris, but was never expressly said unlike the first. Certain details were still there, like how he had spent more time working on etiquette than usual, but the oddest part was the separation of Chris as Christopher and her as the woman who he planned to take to the dance. Nothing connected the two of them to each other creating a disjunct in his mind as it tried to fill in the blanks with the objective truth.
And with this revelation, he found that things made even less sense.
Why have two letters? It's not like you could send both, it was one or the other. Which was Gunter's truth? Which was he going to send to the king? The difference a few words made changed everything and yet… nothing.
Gunter had still gone behind his back, he had still lied, but why? That was the real question Zeven wanted to ask. But now… he would never know.
He looked at Chris and with her eyes closed she looked just like her mother. It was just like he was seeing her again, sleeping soundly in her bed. His vision became obscured by tears that now fell freely down his face. There was no one there to see him and it was too much to bear.
Reaching out to touch her, he stopped himself, afraid. His outstretched hand began to shake, he was so afraid.
If his father saw him he would be so ashamed, because he was so weak. Any trace of weakness had been beaten out of him at a young age. But he was weak, and broken, and hurt. He could no longer deny all the emotions that swirled inside him. Not his hatred for his father, not his love for Chris, not his agony for Gunter's death. It was all he could do earlier to not break, but the glass house had come crashing down, leaving Zeven exposed.
Down on the ground, he wrapped his arms around himself. Needing more security than he was ever likely to feel again. The letters were still crumbled up in his hands, he didn't dare let them go. They were all he had left of him, his memory was tainted by things after his death. It was all so unfair, he wasn't even around to defend himself.
There was still so much he wanted to say to Gunter. He wanted to thank him for all the years he spent at his side, to ask him more questions about life and happiness, and most importantly to tell him that he always thought of him as his real father. For so long, Zeven had wanted to tell Gunter exactly what he thought of him and now it was too late. All he could do was hope he already knew.
The hours came and went. With Zeven still curled in on the floor, but with each passing moment his resolve hardened and the tears dried on his face.
As the long night finally gave way to the new morning actions were already set in place. The bags under Zeven's eyes had grown exponentially after the long sleepless night he spent on the floor beside Chris's bed. He stood up, his body creaking with each movement.
Walking up to Chris, he leaned down on the bed beside. Tracing his fingers over her. Memorizing the lines of her hands like his life depended on it. His eyes followed her arm all the way up to her shoulder and the hideous burn that was covered in white bandages. He checked that it was still securely in place before turning his attention to her face.
With her eyes still closed he couldn't see the grey of her iris, she looked like her mother even more in the early sun. But as he moved in for a closer look there was no mistaking who she was. With his face only a few inches from hers, he could see all the lines, and freckles, and every individual eyelash. What little makeup she had been wearing was now smudged. The area under her eyes was smeared in black, the color on her lips only remained in a few places and yet he still found her so incredibly beautiful.
Ruefully he pressed his lips to her temple. Relishing in the slight warm the felt and the softness of her skin. It made leaving even harder.
There was nothing else to do, so he left. Creeping into the living room he saw Brennan fast asleep on the sofa. He clutched his sword even in his sleep. Waking Brennan with a nudge, Zeven began talking. Quickly and in hushed words.
"Keep her safe."
Brennan mumbled as he sat upright.
"I'm going to put an end to this bulshit."
"What?" Brennan reached out and caught Zeven by the arm.
"Stay here. Keep Chris safe. If I don't return in a week take her back over the border of Ametade and stay there."
"That's not enough information." Brennan was wide awake now.
"My father has to answer for his crimes. If Chris wakes up-"
"If Chris wakes up and you're not here she's going to be pissed."
"This is something I have to do."
He brushed Brennan's arm away. Eyes clear and straightforward, he walked out.
Zeven mounted his horse and took off. If he would have looked back, he would have seen the flowers that grew in vivid colors along the sides of the cottage.